Blue Emotion
by Digicowboy
Summary: Takes places in the original series. From Billy's POV as he fights in battle, and eventually, risks it all...Contains some violence, fish flakes, ice-cream (Although not in the same bowl) and lurve. Billy White, Walrus of Soul. Awwww yeah. Or something.


Blue Emotion  
  
Disclaimer  
  
DC:…Which really begs the question, does Lord Zedd just wear very little armour, or is it a part of his skin? In which case, is he walking around naked?   
  
Zordon: *Coughs, and nods towards the audience. Being a head floating a jar, he can't exactly point, but them's the breaks.*  
  
DC: Oh, hello. Recently, on a day of from my University course in Merrie Olde Englande, I came across a few pieces of PR fanfiction, and ever since I've been riding some strange form of nostaligia wave, and this, my first Power Rangers fanfiction, is a result of that. PR is probably owned by the spawn of Walt D by now, but the original rangers series, in which this story is based, was still owned by Saban, I believe. So I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that I don't own MMPR in any way, shape or form, with the exception of my Timeshare in the Command Centre.  
  
Enjoy the fic. *climbs up a ladder by Zordon's Jar and tips in some fish food*  
  
  
  
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As always, I hear the thump-thump-thump of my heart pounding in my chest, so loud that it sounds like an industrial press inside me. It does not beat this rapidly within my chest out of exhaustion. The sweat on my brow has nothing to do with my level of physical fitness. My increased heart rate and perspiration are by-products of adrenaline, tinged with exhilaration and, admittedly, fear. But I accept the fear, the voice of caution from deep inside me, and I am a better fighter because of it. It would be strange, I think, not to be afraid, because nothing in my life before I was chosen to be a receptacle for the Power could possibly have prepared me for these, and even after all of these times defending the Earth, my heart beats faster every time I don the blue suit.  
  
Another Putty comes at me, crouching low, waving its arms, gibbering and searching for an opening as it moves. We circle each other for a brief moment before it lashes out at me. I clench my fists together and swing back at the oncoming grey hand with my forearms, knocking it back and away. The Putty staggers back, recovering from my counter, and I take the brief opportunity to kick it squarely in the chest, destroying the clay apparition. I'm not bad at Marshal Arts by any means, and as a Ranger, I am faster and stronger than a normal person. But I am probably the least proficient member of the team. Both the girls are far more agile than I am, and Jason and Zach far better at combat. So, as another pair of Putties come at me, I fight tactically, not relying entirely on my strength or my agility, but my mind. We leap and duck and roll and kick our way through the hordes of Putties, all the while trying to keep an eye on Zedd's monster, a large, shelled thing that had arms ending in vicious looking pincers, that ended in sword points that identified itself as Kraybour. But the next time I look at him, he is gone. Angry with ourselves for letting the monster slip away, we power down and go our separate ways to search for it before anybody gets hurt.   
  
  
  
By way of several suburban neighbourhoods and side streets, I find myself at one of the Shopping precincts, and cast my eyes around. A gaggle of schoolchildren, probably no more than eight or nine years old, maybe less, gather around the ice-cream store, an after school ritual on Fridays. Several men and women in business wear stroll by, probably from one of the accountancy or legal firms in the high-rises, reflections marching in step with them as they walk along the long line of shop windows in the main avenue of the precinct. Except the very last one.  
  
Who has no reflection.  
  
He must have felt me staring at him in realisation, because he turns and looks at me. An evil, predatory grin spreads across a face that I now know is not human, and his gaze slides from me to the ice-cream store. To the children. My shock dissolves, destroyed by blind fury as I realise his intent. Those kids are innocents. They do not deserve this. At the same time, we start to run. He towards the unsuspecting children and parents, and I towards him. Somehow, I find extra reserves of energy that enable me to run faster as I desperately calculate the point of interception, when our paths will cross. As he runs, his outline shifts and blurs, and in a mere second any pretence at Humanity is gone, a terrible loping monster, out of disguise.  
  
I hear the terrified shouts and screams of child and adult alike as I slam into his side with all of my weight and speed, staggering him away from the scattering group of civilians. He reels away, his own momentum crashing him through a shop window. He recovers rapidly and turn to face me, mandibles moving and clicking repulsively, a grotesque version of a smile, and I know that I cannot fight him for long like this, let alone defeat him. The centre is still full of people…But, by God, there is a time for hiding behind a mask, for secret identities, and there is a time for saving lives, whatever the cost. And he WILL NOT hurt an innocent if I can do anything about it. I lunge for my Morpher, bringing both arms out in front of me.   
  
'TRICERATOPS!' I bellow in a voice that is close to a scream. There is a flash of colour all around me, and I am suited once again. We close on each other, and I swing my fist at his head as hard as I can with a left hook that knocks his neck around. I immediately follow with a right, and again with an uppercut. His head snaps back, and I am elated that my punches are getting through. Suddenly, he seems to laugh, a grating, tenor expression of malice, and he lowers his head again. Suddenly, burning agony explodes in my chest, and I realise that he has slammed his pincers hard into my sides. I cry out and stagger backwards, my chest full of fire. My ribs feel like they could be fractured, possibly even broken, and I wish I had paid more attention to the science of Biology. Because Physics and Chemistry aren't going to help me now. I stand up straight again, determined not to show weakness, show how much that hurt me. Because if he thinks he has me beaten, he may well go after the townspeople again. I leap at him, it, and drive both my feet into the centre of his chest, but it appears that his shell absorbs the brunt of the impact. I allow my kick to continue it's natural course, my legs contracting under me briefly until I use Kraybour's chest as a springboard, twisting in mid-air and landing on my feet some metres away, but he is evidently faster than I gave his bulky form credit for, and as I land I am struck by a heavy blow to the head that knocks me to the floor. I feel, rather than see or hear, my visor shattering, so when I open my eyes, I view the world through crazy paving. Almost entirely removed from conscious thought now, I roll to my feet and summon my Power Lance. I charge at him, blinded by anger, all thoughts of tactical fighting banished from my mind. As I raise my weapon, he strikes, quick as a flash of lightning, a large steel pincer closing around my throat as he lifted me effortlessly off of the ground. There is a pause whilst he tightens his grip around my neck and I struggle to breath.   
  
'So long, Blue Ranger!' he crows, and rams his other claw right through my suit and into my stomach. There is a shriek of loss and disbelief, and the monster turns his head. I don't know who it is who has distracted him, but I am thankful for the opportunity. Slowly, I raise my arms, inch by painstaking inch, lacking my former strength. And, strangely enough, as I raise my arms, I am at piece. I know I was never the best ranger, and I suppose that now I am paying the price for that. I tighten my grip, and drive the Power Lance down into the base of the monster's neck, the chink in the shell. It froze, mid taunt, and collapsed, dissolving as it did so. I too fell unceremoniously to the floor, demorphing as the last of my energy was spent.   
  
'BILLY!' I hear someone scream. In what seems like an instant they are beside me, cradling my head in their bare arms. It sounds as if they are weeping, but why? Painstakingly, I lifted my head to look at them. No. This couldn't be right.   
  
Trini never cried. Not sweet, intelligent and dependable Trini. I look up at her, shaking and weeping and stroking my face.  
  
'Please, no…Don't leave me Billy, please…I need you to be with me…Please don't leave me, Billy…please…' She chokes. She sounds so sad, and I can't understand why. I must be ok, mustn't I? Why else would I feel so…peaceful? I try to reach out to her, tell her that I'm fine, just a bit shaken up, that I'm not intending to leave Angel Grove at all, but my arms won't obey me, and the words will not make themselves heard through numb lips.   
  
'Billy, please…I love you Billy, you can't die…don't leave me, Billy, I don't know if I can do this without you…' Trini moans softly. My mind seemed to seize up. Triny…loved me? My vision seemed to darken around the edges, fade away, and sound became blurred and distant, not words anymore, just…noise.  
  
Triny loved me?  
  
And everything faded to black.  
  
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DC: Well, what did you think? I think it could stand quite well as a one-shot, but I could easily expand it into more chapters as well. Of course, that depends on whether or not anybody actually likes it. If you want to review, and let me know in that, that'll be good. Peace out. 


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